Things We Lost to the Flames
by MsLane19
Summary: "On May 15th, 1940 the Dutch forces surrendered to the Nazi forces and the occupation of the Netherlands began. On May 16th, 1940 Judge Eddard Stark went to work at The Hague and didn't come back." WWII AU fic. Stark family centric.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

**The last thing I should be doing right now is starting another multi-chapter...and yet...here you go. Once again, I own nothing you recognize. ASOIAF belongs to GRRM. **

* * *

On May 15th, 1940 the Dutch forces surrendered to the Nazi forces and the occupation of the Netherlands began.

On May 16th, 1940 Judge Eddard Stark went to work at The Hague and didn't come back.

Arya had stood in the hall as her mother begged him not to go, begged him to stay at home. Father had wrapped his arms around her and leaned down to kiss her forhead one last time as told her that he would not let the Germans and their supporters frighten him away. He would go to his fate with dignity, not run and hide like a coward.

Now, at three o'clock in the afternoon on May 16th, Arya stands at the door to the parlor where her family is gathered as mother's friend, Herr Baelish, tells them that Tywin Lannister has had Papa arrested and executed as an enemy of the Reich.

Mother falls to the floor, Robb moves to catch her, Sansa is crying in Fraulein Mordane's arms, Rickon is yelling at Bran (Why is momma crying? Where is Papa? I want Papa!), Osha reaches to grab him and move him out of the room...

Arya just runs.

Out the door, down the street, past Dr. Luwin who lives next door, past Admiral Cassel three houses down, past the butcher boy and the newstand and the world that is still turning even though it shouldn't.

She runs and runs and she doesn't stop until she reaches the spot in Vondelpark by the pond, the spot that had been theirs, her's and Papa's.

It's only when she gets there that she starts to cry.

* * *

Mother says they have to leave. They have to get out of the city before the Lannisters come for them. Bran and Rickon ask why, Bran understands some of it but Rickon doesn't understand at all.

Arya's not sure she does either.

It doesn't make sense.

The Germans executed Papa because he was a supporter of the English allies, he was important judge in the old government, and because he was in the way. Arya's family isn't in the way anymore, why can't the Lannisters leave them alone?

Mother says that Papa's family was Jewish, and the Germans hate Jews. And even though Mother isn't Jewish, she married a Jew and so they're all in trouble.

Arya thinks it's stupid to hate someone just because their religion is different, but nobody asked her.

She asks Mother if they are going to France, to stay with Jon, but Mother says no. France is safe, but England is safer. They will write to Jon and tell him where they are once they are safe.

Arya thinks she hates that word.

* * *

It was a mistake though, trusting Herr Baelish.

The Germans come right before they leave, with guns and trucks and two huge men in charge, one who has a huge scar on his face.

Mother screams at them to run, and Arya runs. The air around her is filled with the sound of gunshots and Sansa and Mother screaming and Robb yelling at mother to "Go, go, go!"

There is a loud shot, closer than the others, and then Bran screams, a horrid, bloodcurdling scream and she knows he's been shot, but she doesn't stop, she doesn't look back, she just runs.

She doesn't stop running until she's down by the docks and she can't run anymore.

* * *

She spends the night hiding in the shadows, curled up in a crate with a ratty old blanket pulled over her.

In the morning, she almost runs into a band of boys in khaki with swastikas on their shoulders. A mean faced blonde boy whom she recognizes as Joffrey Baratheon, Herr Lannister's grandson, is at their head. It's strange, to think that Joffrey's Papa had been her Papa's best friend when he was alive.

"Psst." She turns at the hiss from the allyway behind her. A tall boy with black hair and blue eyes in dirty old clothes motions for her to follow him. She does.

"Hitler-jugend." He whispers, his accent heavy. "You stay away from them."

"How do you know who they are?" She asks.

"They had them in Germany, and Poland."

She looks him up and down. "Is that where you're from? How'd you get here?"

He tells her his name is Gendry, and he was a gypsy, "Romani" he corrects. He and a few other boys escaped a raid on their caravan and travelled to Denmark to get away from the Nazis.

"But they followed us here." He says grimly. "They follow us everywhere. Can't seem to get away from them."

"What will they do to you if they catch you?" She asks.

He gives her a long look. "Bad things. They sent Tobho, the man who raised me, to the death camps."

"What are death camps?"

Gendry shudders, "Places where they put gypsies and Jews and anyone else they don't like. They work them hard and starve them to death. We passed by many of them on our way here. Almost got caught."

Arya thinks that the death camps must be where the Lannisters want to send her family. She thinks about the screams, she hopes no one was caught.

* * *

The boy is screaming in pain. She can't blame him, but if he doesn't stop the Nazi bastards will catch them.

She'd killed at least three, it had been years since Osha had held a gun in her hands but she still knew how to put a bullet in a man. Her secret had gotten them out, Bran and Rickon, her boys. Hodor had picked Bran up off the ground and carried him away after knocking a Nazi pig unconscious. She'd had to struggle with Rickon, he kept trying to go to his mother, and that had been difficult to do while trying to put a bullet in a Nazi brain.

Now, hidden away in the warehouse she'd driven them to, she looks around and takes stock of the situation.

"Bran, you need to be brave for me. If someone hears you scream, they will come and find us and we'll all be dead." She looks into his eyes for a moment, the pain and fear evident behind the tears, before he nods and bites his lip.

She'd stopped the bleeding, but he needed a Doctor.

They would need to go back; Dr. Luwin was the only one she knew, the only one she trusted, to save her boy.

* * *

Bran knew that Osha was right, but it hurt so bad. He wanted mother, but mother was gone. The last time he'd seen her, Robb had been dragging her away through the smoke, he didn't know if they were still alive or if they'd been shot as well.

He was scared.

He was hurting.

And he wanted his mother.

As the pain grew worse, the tears flowed freely down his cheeks until finally his body surrendered to unconsciousness.

* * *

He woke up in Dr. Luwin's basement with the kind old man looking down at him with a smile on his face.

"There you are young man, you'll be just fine." He said and then moved away out of Bran's line of sight only to be replaced with Osha's calm face with the smile that didn't reach her worried eyes.

"It's alright my Bran; Dr. Luwin is going to fix you."

Dr. Luwin comes back with a handkerchief that he places over Bran's nose and mouth. It smells funny.

"Don't fight it Bran, just breathe in" He looks into Osha's eyes, focuses on her face. It's the last thing he sees before the darkness takes him.

* * *

Robb drags his mother down the alleyways and side roads until he reaches the apartment he's looking for. He bangs on the door until a tall, thin man opens it.

"We have nothing to lose but our chains." Robb quotes. "Tell Ed his sister and nephew are here."

Patrek nods, and then motions them into the house.

"Robb, where are we?" His mother is looking at him with large, pain filled blue eyes. "We have to go back! We have to find Arya, Rickon and Bran! My boy, they shot my boy! And Sansa was in the house...she wouldn't have been able to get out..."

"Mother." Robb says as he takes her by the arm and moves her to one of the chairs. "You need to calm down. We cannot go back. Osha and Hodor had Bran and Rickon, they will take care of them! And Arya is a fast runner, she wouldn't have stopped for anything. There was no way those men could have kept up with her."

"And Sansa?" Mother gives him a look. "How would she have escaped Robb? She was upstairs, in her room! She's your sister, my little girl! We cannot leave her behind for those monsters!"

Robb doesn't know what to say, he knows as well as she does that Sansa is most likely in the hands of the Lannisters and the other German supporters.

Luckily, he was saved from having to find an answer by the arrival of his Uncle.

"Cat! Cat, you're alright. I was so worried when I heard about Ned. Is it just the two of you? Where are the others?"

Edmure Tully was a tall, redheaded man with a warm smile and a loud laugh. Contrary to popular opinion, he wasn't an idiot. He just let his heart lead his actions more often than was good for him.

Robb had known for some time that his uncle was a communist. He had even attended some of the meetings with him, sometimes dragging his cousin, Jon along with him. Before, well, everything, his mother would have been furious to discover this, but now…it was a good thing he had known. Edmure would be able to help them.

He'd been worried about his mother, but it seems that his uncle appearance had shaken her out of her shock and panic.

* * *

Catelyn Stark takes a deep breath and then exhales; she has to be strong now. She's lost her husband and all but one of her children in the last eight days. She wants nothing more than to fall apart. However, she looks into her son's bright blue eyes and sees the same brokenness that she feels and she knows she has to be strong.

"Petyr betrayed us," She begins, "He told me he would get us out, but he brought them to us. Arya escaped alone, Bran and Rickon are with Osha and Hodor as far as we know, Bran was shot while they were escaping. Sansa…I don't know what happened to Sansa. She was upstairs when they came, I don't know that she would have been able to escape."

Catelyn finds a seat and sits down heavily, she feels so tired now.

"God, Cat," Edmure says, his eyes filled with pain, as he reaches to pull her into his arms. "God, but I am sorry. I am so glad you are alright, but I am sorry."

She lets herself relax into her baby brother's embrace for a moment before gently pushing away. "Why did Robb bring me here, Ed? What is this place, why are _you_ here?"

Edmure looks as though he has been caught doing something she wouldn't approve of, and she knows he is about to make up some lame excuse.

"Don't, Edmure, I need the truth. The time for lies is past, I need to know."

Her brother's eyes meet Robb's and there seems to be a silent communication between them and then Ed says, "I'm a communist, Cat, I've been meeting with the Party for five years now. Since the war began in earnest though…my friends and I…we've joined the resistance. We've been using our connections to help our allies smuggle food, ammunition and guns behind enemy lines, as well as helping Jewish families escape from occupied countries. We can help you, Cat. We can get you out."

Before the events of the last week, Catelyn would have yelled at her brother for getting involved with such dangerous company. Now, she can only be relieved, because in Edmure's confession she sees the first ray of hope that she will be able to save her children.

* * *

**a/n: I'm going on an overseas trip for two and a half weeks, but I already have chapter two written and beta'd, I'll post it when I get back. Hope y'all enjoyed this first part though :)**

**A/N 2: I was informed by a reviewer that Gendry referring to Hitler Youth being in Poland could be construed as Polish children being in the Hitler Youth. This is not the case. Between 1940 and 1945, over 2.8 million German Hitler youth were sent to Eastern European countries, such as Poland, to get them out of Germany because of the bombings. The Polish people were viewed as second class citizens by the racist Nazi party and as such were treated horribly.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, I'm back from my trip! Here is chapter 2, I hope you enjoy :) Once again, I don't own. Also, a huge thank you to Koby, my beta. He's quite awesome.  
**

* * *

"He'll never walk again."

When she hears that, she wants to scream at the old man, tell him he's wrong, and call him a liar.

Bran and Rickon are not her sons. Osha knows this, she's always known it. But it doesn't change the fact that they are hers to protect, hers to care for, to love as though they were her own. When Stark had given her freedom and a second chance, he'd entrusted her with his two youngest children, and from that moment on Brandon and Rickon Stark took the place of the children she would never have.

All she could think of was three year old Bran running after the dogs on short little legs, climbing the oak tree in the back yard, chasing Rickon by the pond... all the things he loved that he would never do again.

The Nazis took everything, it seemed.

'No,' she thinks, 'Not everything. He still lives, and they will not take that.'

"Will he be able to travel soon?" She asks.

Luwin gives her a worried look. "Not as soon as he needs to. The Nazis are patrolling the streets. The longer you stay, the more likely it is that they'll find you."

* * *

It's one day. One day before the Nazis burst through Luwin's door.

They'd had a little warning, one of Luwin's neighbors, the Admiral. He'd served with Eddard Stark in the first Great War. By the time the Nazis were banging on the front door, Luwin was already showing them out the small side door in his cellar.

"There's a van in the alley, take it. I'll hold them off."

Osha looks at the old man, "Maybe I should stay and you go. Bran will need you."

Luwin shook his head. "No, I may be a doctor, but you're the only one who can get these boys out of Holland alive. Take them to Frau Stark's brother, Brynden Tully, in Breskens. He'll be able to get you across the channel to England." And with that he pushes them out the door.

She knows he'll be dead soon.

* * *

Theon Greyjoy kicks the old man's side one last time before emptying his gun into his body.

So close, he was so close.

He needed to be the one to bring the other Starks in. He had to prove himself, had to prove that he wasn't a traitor like them.

He needed to do this.

"Search the allyway, find out how they got away. Someone saw them leave, find them!"

* * *

Robb sits by the window of the small apartment and watches as his mother and uncle talk. He hadn't really had time to think about what had happened until now, all his energy had been put into getting his mother out, keeping her safe.

Now they are safe and he feels so exhausted and lost. Father is dead, Bran is shot and he and Rickon are with Osha, but who knows if they are safe? Arya is God knows where, and Sansa…Sansa, his beautiful, kind, sweet, gentle sister is in the hands of monsters.

He had managed to save his mother, but he had failed to protect his siblings. Robb closes his eyes as he remembers his last conversation with his father…

"_I'm not going to be coming home son, your mother knows it and I know it and you should know it too. They may only imprison me, or they may kill me. Either way, you are the man of this family now and you must protect them. For me, do it for me. Be strong son, and know that I love you."_

He had been so angry with his father for going, knowing that he was walking to his death. How could he? He knew that they needed him! And now Robb had failed to keep their family safe. They would have made it if Father had not let the Lannisters kill him.

Robb sighed and turned to look out the window before someone could see the tears in his eyes. If only Jon was here…

* * *

They'd decided to keep her as a hostage; they've put her to work as a maid. Cersei Baratheon had simply stated that it seemed such a shame to let such a pretty little dove go to the camps and besides, she was only half a Jew anyway, and that had been that.

She is treated with less respect than the kitchen maid, and given the most demeaning tasks. Sansa wants to scream, to rage at the indignity of it all, but she is not an idiot. She bites her tongue and works her fingers to the bone as she prays that someone, anyone will come rescue her.

She thinks that if only she hadn't taken so long to pack she might have managed to escape with Mother and Robb, or perhaps they would all have been gone before the Lannisters came.

"_Sansa, Mother said to hurry up, I don't know why you're trying to pack your whole closet anyway. It's not as if we're going on holiday!"_

_Sansa sighed and grabbed another pair of shoes. "We're not coming back Arya, and I'm not wearing the same dress for the rest of my life."_

_Fraulein Mordane cut in, "Arya why don't you go make sure that Rickon has his shoes on and his coat."_

_Arya huffed and rolled her eyes before running down the stairs. Fraulein Mordane turned and took Sansa's hands in hers. "I think that's enough now dear, I know you don't want to leave anything behind, and I agree that the jewelry needs to be taken, if only because it will help with expenses, but you are going to have to leave some things behind." She paused to wipe the tears off of Sansa's cheek. "Things are going to be very different now child, but you can move on."_

"_But I don't want to move on! I want it to be the way it was before!" Sansa sobbed_

"_I know dear, it'll be alright though." Fraulein Mordane said as she hugged her tight. "Now, close up your bags and let's be on our way."_

It hadn't been alright. They had waited too long and as the nazis descended on her family's home, Fraulein Mordane had hidden her in the attic before running back down the stairs toward the sound of gun shots.

She had hidden there, huddled in the corner behind the old armoire, for hours as the sounds of guns and screams faded until there was only quiet.

Sansa had finally crawled out from her hiding place and opened the attic door, only to be greeted by the smirking face of Joffrey Baratheon. He'd grabbed her as she began to scream and fight.

"_Look what I found hiding in the attic, Uncle!" _

"_You'd better hand her over to me boy, she's seems liable to escape from you at any moment."_

Jaime Lannister had slung her over his shoulder and carried her out of the house to the truck waiting outside. They'd passed the limp, pale body of Fraulein Mordane and Sansa had wept harder than she'd ever wept before.

Now, she scrubs at the floor of Lannister's ballroom and tries not to listen to the guilt that keeps telling her the same thing over and over.

_It's your fault._

* * *

Catelyn turned the ring over in her hands, lost in thought. The panic of the past week, of trying to get her children to safety, had prevented her from truly grieving for her loss. Now, in the quiet of the safe house, it all sunk in.

She remembers the feel of that last kiss she'd shared with her husband, remembers the last time he'd held her in his arms. She'd known then that he would not be coming back to her.

She remembers the good as well, the first time they met, their first kiss in garden behind Jon Arryn's manor, the night he went away to fight in the Great War, the night he asked her to marry him, the day he came home, when he'd held their first child in his arms for the first time.

So many memories, a life time of them, and yet she can't help but think of all the memories that they'd been robbed of.

She hears the door open and turns to see Robb standing there.

"Are you ready, Mother?"

She slides the ring back on her finger and stands. "Yes, I'm ready."

* * *

Robb watches his mother during the ride to the new safe house. Edmure had told them that staying within the city was not a good idea, and had introduced them to Perwyn Frey, the son of Walder Frey, a neighbor of the Tully's whom Mother had known when she was a girl. Old Walder, as he was called, had allowed his home to be used as a safe house for the resistance. Mother had seemed surprised by this, but Ed had told her that it was mostly due to the fact that his sons were involved in the resistance. Of course, that wasn't the only reason. Ed had confided to Robb that, even though Old Frey's sons were a part of the resistance, he still required something of them in return for his help. Old Walder was involved in the black market, and the resistance assisted with his smuggling in return for his help.

"It's a mutually beneficial relationship," His uncle had said, "But I doubt your mother would understand."

The old dirt road stretches on forever, winding and bumping through the countryside. He had not been to the country in a very long time, not since his Grandfather's death when he was ten, but the ride seems to take just as long as he remembered.

His thoughts turn to Jon, his cousin, living in France with his mother's family. Jon had always been more like a brother than a bastard cousin, and now more than ever Robb needs his best friend by his side. He doesn't think he can protect his mother and get his siblings back alone. Ed is there, but Ed is trying to lead a rebellion. Robb is on his own.

The road takes a sharp turn, and a farm with several larger buildings is there in front of them. Robb takes a deep breath as they come to a stop behind a barn where an old man and a girl his age are waiting for them.

* * *

Roslin's father was leaning on his cane as the car drove up to the barn. He had an odd smile on his face, the sight of it caused a chill to run down her spine. Her father didn't smile very often and when he did, it was rather disturbing. The car stopped, and a tall, lanky boy with brown hair and brown eyes stepped out. Olyvar gave her a wink and Roslin had to bite her lip to stop the giggle that threatened to escape. The passenger side door opened and her other brother, Perwyn, nodded to her father and then moved to open the back door. A handsome, red-haired boy her age stood and pushed his windblown curls out of his eyes, then turned to help his mother out. In spite of the exhaustion that was apparent in her eyes and the movement of her body, Frau Stark was a beautiful woman. Flaming red hair pinned up on her head, striking blue eyes, and a kind smile. Roslin watched as her father stepped forward to greet their guests.

"Little Cat, my but it has been some years since last we met. Not since that husband of yours stole you away from us and carried you off to the city." Old Walder clasped Frau Stark's hand in his, "I am so sorry for your loss my dear. The loss of family is a wound more grievous than any other."

Frau Stark's eyes seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, and her smile faltered for a moment. "Thank you, Herr Frey. Indeed, my son and I are in your debt. Your kindness is greatly appreciated."

"Yes, yes, what are neighbors for m'dear?" Old Walder smiled that odd smile of his and turned towards the barn.

"We have turned the barn loft into a living space. Of course, it isn't the arrangements that you're used to, but it should do for now."

"Herr Frey, you are risking your families lives in hiding us. Whatever arrangements you provide will be more than enough." Frau Stark graciously accepted Roslin's father's arm and walked into the barn.

"Doesn't seem right for a pretty girl like you to be frowning like that."

Roslin jumped and turned to see the boy standing just behind her. His wind-blown, red curls and sparkling blue eyes gave him a rakish look, but the boyish awkwardness to his smile was more calming and reminded her of Olyvar. He couldn't be older than her, in fact, Roslin was certain he was at least a year younger.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He held out a hand, "Robb Stark."

"Oh, no it's alright, my brothers are always saying I take things too seriously. I'm Roslin, Roslin Frey." She accepted his hand with a smile. "We should probably get you inside the barn, Robb Stark."

Robb grimaced, "Yeah, hiding. What are the chances of me ever being allowed out of there?"

Roslin gave him a sympathetic smile and turned towards the barn. "You'll need to lay low for a few days, but I'm sure at some point you'll be allowed to see the place."

"Can I count on you to give me the tour then?"

Roslin turned back to see the grin on his face. Oh yes, very much like Olyvar.

She couldn't help but return his grin with one of her own. "We'll see."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: You'll notice that I have changed the rating on this story. This is because of the graphic violence and use of slurs used in this chapter. Some of the scenes depicted in this fic in the coming chapters will contain a great deal of racist violence, this particular chapter contains a scene from an unamed camp, similar to Auschwitz. For some people, this may be traumatic, so I have and warning for Violence and Racial and Homophobic slurs. **

**Once again, the characters are not mine, they belong to GRRM.**

* * *

It was the arrival of the Tyrells that changed everything. They were a very old, influential family that controlled a great majority of the import and export business. They were fascinating.

At their head, was Frau Olenna, a tiny, wrinkled, gray lady with a spine of steel and a blade for a tongue. Her bright, sparkling eyes belied her age, and her wit could match that of Herr Tyrion's. She had apparently taken her granddaughter, Margaery, as her protégé.

Margaery Tyrell was the image of beauty, with large, deceivingly innocent, doe-brown eyes matched with a brazen smile. She had barely been an hour at the Lannister mansion before it became clear that she was a master manipulator, effortlessly wrapping Joffrey around her little finger, tighter and tighter with each smile and arch of the brow. Beauty and intelligence, a dangerous combination made deadly under the tutelage of her grandmother. Cersei hated her. Needless to say, Sansa was quite pleased by her presence, after all "The enemy of my enemy is my friend" and Margaery's presence meant that both Cersei and Joffrey's, often violent, attentions were directed elsewhere.

Sansa had been given the additional duty of acting as Margaery's lady's maid. It was actually a relief. Margaery was funny and kind, and treated Sansa more like a little sister than a hostage.

And then there was Willas.

* * *

The day after the Tyrell's arrival, Sansa had been cleaning the library, one of her more enjoyable tasks. She had found that the library was peaceful, the only Lannister she tended to see there was Herr Tyrion, and with the more politically minded Lannister brother now in Russia, she was seldom interrupted. However, that day she found her usual solitude interrupted by the arrival of a tall, handsome man with lovely, deep brown eyes and a gentle smile.

Willas Tyrell was Margaery's eldest brother, he'd been known as a bit of an adventurer before the war. Sansa remembered the story the papers had told a few years back, when the daring Tyrell heir had been in a racing accident in Morocco. It had happened while he'd been visiting his friend, the younger brother of some sheik, and there had been some speculation as to whether or not he would lose his leg.

Willas had leaned against his cane and smiled at her as he cheerfully said, "Well, hello. I wasn't expecting anyone to be in here. I promise, I'll try to stay out of your way."

She'd felt her face grow hot, and she'd mumbled something along the lines of "That's fine, excuse me" and continued on with her work.

The silence between them had been broken when Willas began to read aloud.

"In the hall of the Tigris Palace Hotel in Baghdad a hospital nurse was finishing a letter. Her fountain pen drove briskly over the paper…"

The story was about a nurse called to be a companion to the nervous wife of an archaeologist. The wife had a bit of a sordid past, and seemed to be afraid that it was coming back to haunt her.

Suddenly, just as the Nurse Leatheran was introduced to Mrs. Leidner, he'd stopped and Sansa had realized with a start that she'd been leaning against her mop, staring at him. She'd blushed to see him peering at her over the book, a small grin on his face.

"Shall I continue?" He'd asked.

"If you like." She'd replied, keeping her eyes down as she returned to her work.

* * *

Loras turned and walked back up the aisle of the train car, this trip to Germany was more than a little ridiculous. Yes, he knew that it was important for him and Garlan to infiltrate the German ranks, but seeing as they already knew what the Germans were doing in these 'work camps', he really didn't see why it was so important that they actually go see one.

He sat down across from his brother and sighed, "How much longer, do you think?"

"We're almost there," Garlan grinned. "Cheer up little brother, we're only going to be there for a few days."

Loras grimaced, "a few days" of watching Amory Lorch and Gregor Clegane legally murder men, women, and children was far more time than he would wish to spend.

A few hours later, the train grinds to a halt and Loras steps out onto the platform beside his brother.

"Well, well. The Gallant Major Tyrell has brought his young pup of a brother with him on holiday. Here to see the might of the Fuhrer at work, Captain?" Lt. Col. Amory Lorch was leaning up against a balustrade, a cruel smirk on his face. Loras feels his face flush at the remark, but he bites his tongue and climbs, silently, into the car behind his brother. He's become used to older officers remarking on his age, he is not immune to the rumors that he had only reached his current rank because of his family's influence, and he reminds himself of Renly's words to him. _They're only jealous, Loras. You're nineteen years old and already a great officer, imagine the things you'll do when you're a little older! They're jealous because you're probably going to outshine the lot of them!_

Renly. Poor, dear, beautiful Renly. It still hurt to think of him, even though he'd been killed a few months before in the Rotterdam Blitz. Loras hadn't even been able to mourn him properly, as the plan to infiltrate the newly established Nazi government had already been in motion. Overnight, he'd gone from a young, patriotic, Dutch soldier, to a Nazi supporter.

* * *

When they arrived at the camp, they were greeted by the stench of unwashed bodies, death and decay. Most of the prisoners looked as though they were walking skeletons, bodies wasting away to nothing. _The living dead,_ Loras thought, _living a waking nightmare._

He looks at the faces of the men and boys, until he can't bear to be caught in the empty, hopeless eyes that stare blankly back at him. It's then he finds his eyes drawn to the brightly colored badges sewn to their ragged clothes, the cheery yellow stars a stark contrast against the rest of the scene. Loras notices certain of the men wearing bright pink triangles instead of the standard yellow Star of David usually used to mark a Jew. When he comments on the difference, Lorch sneers. "Ha, arschfickers. Filthy 175-ers. They deserve to be in here even more than the Jewish rats if you ask me. Unnatural beasts."

At the first slur, Loras felt his body grow cold. Suddenly, these people weren't just poor unfortunates who'd had the bad luck to be born Jews, they were poor unfortunates who had the misfortune of being born like _him. Not like me though, they don't have the protection I have. _He thinks, glancing at Garlan out of the corner of his eye.

He stares at a dark haired man, struggling to keep up with the rest of his group of workers. The man stumbles wearily several times, until finally falling to the ground. Loras watches him struggle to return to his feet as quickly as possible, but he is too weak and he is kneeling when two of the Nazi guards spot him on the ground.

_ It's like watching vultures with a dying animal, _Loras thinks to himself, as the soldiers swoop down on their victim with gleeful violence. The beating continues as the man Loras had been watching curls in on himself, the sound of bones breaking cutting through the noise of his screams and pleas for his tormentors to stop.

Suddenly, another man breaks away from the group of terrified onlookers. Loras vaguely notes the pink triangle sewn to breast before watching the man attack one of the soldiers. There is a brief struggle, the fool was weak with hunger, he never had a chance, and then the sharp echo of a gunshot fills the air as the would-be rescuer falls to the ground.

Thirty minutes later, Loras is bent over in the small bathroom in their guest quarters emptying the contents of his stomach as his brother stands in the doorway.

"Are you alright?"

"Do I look alright?" Loras snaps in response, wiping his mouth. He feels shaky, weak, like he's going to vomit again.

"You know we would never let that happen to you. We're not going to let them take you." Garlan is staring at him with a worried look on his face, his hands clenched in his pockets.

"I never doubted that. And you don't have to worry, Renly is dead, they're not going to catch me in any illicit rendezvous."

"And if you meet someone else? You're young Loras, you could fall in love again. Don't say that it isn't impossible."

Loras turns to his brother in surprise, "You go from comforting me over the fact that the Nazis want to kill people like me, to encouraging me to fall in love again even if it could mean my death? You've a very odd way of counseling people, Garlan."

Garlan opens his mouth to reply, but Loras cuts him off, "I know you mean well. I'm fine. What we saw today…I guess you could say that, now I know what's at stake. And as for the other subject, that's my business. Understand?"

Garlan nods, and Loras pushes past him, moving towards the bedroom. He needs a drink.

* * *

The day the only father Jon Dayne had ever known was killed, Jon was sitting in the attic of his aunt's home, attempting to paint a girl from memory.

She had blown past him on the street, a whirlwind of red hair, long, pale limbs, and freckles, on a bicycle, barely managing to shout a warning to him and the other pedestrians to move out of her way. Jon had been struck by her in that moment, and he'd found himself attempting to recreate the vibrant image she'd presented on canvas. He never could get the eyes right.

The day after Uncle Eddard was killed, a telegram came. Robb broke the news in one line "_They killed Father. Will contact again when safe."_

It had been a month, and there was still no word from his cousin.

Jon stands in the middle of A. Targaryen's Bookstore, surrounded by the smell of old leather, candles, and paper. He'd shown up for work at the small bookshop in the Jewish quarter, only to be told by Mssr. Targaryen that they were going to be closed for the foreseeable future.

"It's just for a little while, you know, what with everyone staying home because of the current situation." The Old Man says with a wry smile that doesn't look quite as sincere as it should.

Jon opens his mouth to question him further, but Sam suddenly appears at his arm, having just come from the backroom where he had apparently been collecting his things.

"Soldiers came this morning, the German ones, the Nazis." His friend whispers as he hurries the both of them out of the shop. "Tore the place apart. I just finished helping him clean up, it's a miracle they didn't bust the windows out, like they did at the Mormonts. Did you see that, just down the street?"

Jon had noticed Alysane cleaning up the broken glass outside the Mormont's hardware store, but he'd just thought that it was the typical teenage boy stuff they'd been seeing in recent months. The Germans had only been in Paris for four days, and already they were stirring up trouble.

"They wanted to see my identification papers," Sam continues. "They were surprised when they saw I wasn't Jewish. Told me I should start looking for a more 'respectable' place to work."

"Did they hurt the old man?" Jon asks.

Sam shrugs in response, "They roughed the both of us up a little, but it wasn't so bad. You should have seen what they did to the Old Bear."

Jon stops and looks back at the Mormont's store. Alysane wasn't outside anymore and it looked like inside it was empty. His eyes move to the windows above the store, the family was probably all upstairs in the living quarters.

"What about the girls, did they hurt the girls?"

Sam sighs as he follows Jon's gaze, "They'll be fine Jon, you know that family's tough."

A curtain shifts in one of the windows and little Lyanna peeks out. Jon gives her a smile and a wave, which she returns half-heartedly before closing the curtain again.

"It's only going to get worse once the armistice is signed." Sam says somberly as the two of them turn back. "There've been rumors you know, about what the Nazi's have been doing to Jews."

"It's just rumors though." Jon responds, almost mechanically.

Sam glances at him out of the corner of his eye. "Isn't your family in Holland Jewish?"

"My father's family. They're not practicing, but yes. My Aunt Catelyn is Catholic though."

"You still haven't heard from them yet?" Sam asks, casually avoiding Jon's gaze.

Jon frowns. "No."

* * *

When he walks through the kitchen door, he's greeted by the sight of his Aunt sitting at the table, her hands folded around a coffee mug as she stares at a pile of paper.

She looks up at him as he comes to stand beside her.

"That," Allyria begins, nodding towards the pile on the table, "Is everything that connects you to your father's family. Your birth certificate, your Dutch passport and identity papers, your pictures of your life there, everything."

She pauses to take a sip of her coffee.

"Why are they out here?" Jon asks, eyeing her warily.

"They are here," Aunt Allyria replies in a calm voice, "Because we are going to burn them."

* * *

**A/N 2: The book that Willas reads to Sansa is _Murder in Mesopotamia _by Agatha Christie. Hoped you enjoyed this chapter, thanks for reading.**


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